Bring Him Home
by Bek-K
Summary: From all appearances it wasn't supposed to be a dangerous situation, so the Council sent one of their best on his first solo mission; however, the situation took a turn for the worst and Obi-Wan was caught in the middle. Will Qui-Gon lose his padawan?
1. Chapter 1: Your Son Set Me Free

**Title: **Bring Him Home

**Author:** bek

**Genre:** (AU) Hurt/Comfort/Family/Some Angst

**Characters:** OC – Commander Swyer, Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon, Mace, Yoda (Honorable mentions: Siri, Garen, Reeft, and Bant)

**Summary:** Since this story starts in the middle, here's a short summary of the back story:

The mission was to send a delegate of the Senate to negotiate a truce between two parties who _said_ they were willing to clear the air and have peace. From all appearances, it wasn't supposed to be a dangerous situation so the Council sent one of their best on his first solo mission; however, the situation took a turn for the worst (as can happen with any mission) and Obi-Wan was caught up in the middle of it. With Commander Swyer's help, he gets a message back home.

**Disclaimer:** The character(s): Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon, Mace, Yoda, Siri, Garen, Reeft, Bant, and other recognizable characters of the SW universe belong(s) to Lucas and/or Jude Watson. I make no profit from this. It's just a hobby. However, Commander Swyer is my creation.

**Author's Note:** Chapter one was intended to stand alone; however, after posting it at theforceDOTnet in August of 2005, and at the behest of the readers there, two more chapters were added.

I hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 1**

The earth shook from the aerial shots that after their spectacular arched performance whistled their impending arrival before scorching the ground in which they dove. Dirt and debris rained down upon me as I counted the seconds till the next blast. The hill I was on could barely be called by its name; pieces of the hilltop were missing from the targeted scrapes of enemy fire. I burrowed down into my makeshift trench clutching my gun to my side. I listened as booted feet rolled cannons closer, as gun ships hovered above the once green grass waiting for any sign of air support.

I closed my eyes and waited for my impending death. There were no others, they were gone: each killed without remorse or a second glance. Our planet had been plundered into political chaos and war, each side forgetting what they were initially fighting for until all that was left were loyal armies doing someone else's vengeful bidding. Behind closed eyelids pictures of my wife and son came into view. My little one's barely two years of age. A tear slid down my cheek as I thought of never being able to hold him again or teach him the things he would need to know. _My wife, my beautiful wife._ How many times had she pleaded for me to resign my position with the coalition? How many times had I soothed her, reassuring her that I would return as I always had? I can see her smile; I can feel her touch. I close myself off and live within my memories.

"Are you okay?!" The hand on my shoulder roughly shakes my upper torso. "Commander!"

As my mind begins focusing once again on the moment at hand, I feel the ground shutter as an explosion hits close by sending fragments of dirt and metal through the air to land on top of us. A heavy weight lands on top of me and I briefly wonder if this is another casualty of war. I open my eyes and find my sight blocked by a thick brown material.

"I'm okay," I answer, my voice hoarse from screaming out commands and warnings the past few…what….months? The days, weeks, have run together.

The figure shifts, raising himself up till we're face to face. His eyes fix on mine and his hand falls upon my forehead. His pupils' dilate and his gaze takes on a faraway look. He smiles, relief playing upon his features. "We've got to get you out of here!"

Not really concerned with who this man – boy – is I readily agree to follow him back to the fort…to safety…to home. We slide down the hill on our backsides being cautious of the wreckage left in the enemy's wake. Gun ships discover us half way down and begin firing upon us creating ruts and ditches within the semi-barren ground. He falls back into me pushing me into one of said trenches.

"We can't go that way," I state the obvious and he turns to grin at me.

"Of course not Commander that would be too easy," he states rather cheekily.

I laugh, a foreign sound to my own ears. "What do you suggest?"

"There's only one thing we can do," he states seriously.

Wary of his sudden change in demeanor, I look at him. "And what would that be?"

"When night falls, you're going to travel the rest of the way down on your own. The gun ships will revert back to base at dusk, the troops will move in. I'll hold them off from here."

I look at his young features and wonder what in the hell he thinks he's doing. "Are you out of your mind? You can't hold them off; there's too many of them!"

He smiles reassuringly and pulls a weapon from his belt. "I'll be okay," he simply states, standing and leaning over the edge to account for our position. "Their lining up."

"I can't leave you here alone! We don't leave men behind!"

"There's nothing you can do here. When the time comes, go home to your family." he looks down at the cylinder within his grasp and his hands tighten.

"That's not how we do things here! We fight together and we go home together!" I stated with as much authority as I could.

His hands convulsed as they twisted around the sphere. "This is my duty! This is what I trained for!"

"What, to die! To give up?!" I scream, wondering why this kid is so bent on being left to face more than he can handle.

Gesturing at the metal rod, I try another tactic. "What about your family? What do I tell them when I walk in without you?"

His eyes don't leave the rotund casing within his grasp. "Tell him it was my decision. Tell him I did as I was taught." He looks at me momentarily. "Tell him…tell him I'm grateful for everything. Swear to me."

"Your father?"

His eyes snap up to meet mine, seeming to be momentarily stunned. Nodding hesitantly he replies, "As close to one as I'll ever get."

The look in his eyes tell me that I'm fighting a loosing battle, that his mind is made up and that one way or another he'll have his way. Resigned to the inevitable I ask, "What's his name? How do I find him?"

"You'll find him on Coruscant at the Jedi Temple. His name is Qui-Gon Jinn." His eyes brighten at the mention of his home.

My eyes widen and he laughs. "Promise me," he says again.

"I promise."

**X**

We spent the remainder of time in silence. He seemed to be resting as his eyes were closed and his breathing slow. I leaned back against the dirt made wall and sank again into the comfort of holding my rifle tightly against my chest. How could I leave this boy? He couldn't have been more than twenty-three, maybe twenty-five, years of age. How can I tell his father I just left him? I fell asleep with my troubled thoughts.

"Wake up!" a loud whisper next to my ear. "It's time."

I groggily opened my eyes; a light flashed from behind us alerting me to the fact that the ground troops were on the move. I could feel the vibration of pounding feet. He helped me up and pointed me in the direction of where I was to go. I climbed out of the ditch and crawled on my belly until I was a fair distance away. Looking back, my gaze met his and with everything I felt I silently thanked him. He smiled with a curt nod as if he had heard and waved me on. The last I saw of that young man was him leaping from the trench with a long glow rod in his hand.

The members of my company that had made it back alive greeted me warmly when I walked through the open flap of the large tent. Whispers gradually grew to voiced greetings, which grew to yelled welcome homes, which turned into fierce hugs and cries of joy. After being checked over by the makeshift military infirmary, I made my way to the command center and requested the use of a comm. unit.

I pushed the record button and spoke of the young man who had saved my life.

_Jedi Jinn,_

_My name is Commander Swyer. I'm calling to tell you of a courageous young man who despite the odds came back for me when I was stranded on the edge of enemy territory. Most of my platoon had been wiped out except a select few who were able to escape. I was the last and although I won't lie and say that I was ready to meet my fate, I was coming to accept the possibility of never again seeing my wife and son. I had closed myself off from the chaos around me, that was when I saw him. _

_He came out of nowhere amidst the bombs and destruction. His only concern was that I was all right. We made it half way to safe ground when gun ships stopped our progress. We hid out in one of the trench's the cannon guns had made. When we discovered that their ground troops were gathering we knew we were trapped. _

_He told me to go home to my family. I swear I didn't want to leave him but he was rather insistent in a very stubborn way._ Lowering my head, a shuddered breath escapes. _The man I speak of was your son, or, at least he said that you were as close to a father as he would come. He did his training justice, Jedi Jinn. _

_He asked me to tell you that he was grateful for everything. He asked me to tell you of his fate…he was captured and is now in enemy hands. I am sorry. We are planning a recon mission to get him back although somehow I don't think he will be too keen on seeing my face when he is rescued, as I am suppose to be returning home._

Not knowing how to continue I push the stop button; selecting the corresponding digits to the Jedi Temple, I press send.

**To be continued…**

**X**

…I was up on a hill  
I was out there alone  
When the shots all rang out  
And bombs were exploding  
And that's when I saw him  
He came back for me  
And though he was captured  
A man set me free  
And that man was your son

He asked me to write to you  
I told him I would oh I swore

-Mark Schultz (Letters from War)

**

* * *

**Please leave a review; I would enjoy reading your thoughts on the story!


	2. Chapter 2: He Prayed He was Living

**Chapter 2**

_His eyes were steadily fastened on the image before him. How many times had he heard this, how many times had he replayed it? The council sat quietly, once again viewing the disheartened soldier as he retold his tale. When the holocom quieted, Mace reached forward and turned it off aware that Qui-Gon had not moved to stop him._

_Silence stretched throughout the chamber. The subtle shifting of a few masters the only sound to be heard. Qui-Gon swallowed, the knot lodged in his throat reluctantly moving aside. When he was sure that his serenity was in place, he said, "I'm going to find him."_

_"In the right frame of mind to participate in a mission of this type, you are not."_

_When Qui-Gon's startled gaze met with Yoda's, Mace cleared his throat to draw the Jedi's attention before speaking. "We have a team assembled. They will leave at dawn."_

_When his friend's questioning gaze met his, Mace continued, "I will be heading the mission; we will find young Kenobi."_

_Qui-Gon dipped his head in gratitude. Mace was an accomplished Jedi, one of only a few he trusted with this particular assignment. Besides, he knew that if he pushed the issue that he would get nowhere. Not this time._

Sitting on the floor Qui-Gon reclined back against the sofa. Rubbing a hand over weary features, he looked down at the letters strewn about him. He had read and re-read each one trying to find some sort of missing piece that he had overlooked that may have directed his attentions to the outcome of his padawan's mission. But none were to be found. Obi-Wan had spoken little of the assignment itself, instead choosing to tell of the planet, the people, even the weather when it didn't fit his particular mood. Reaching for the first one that he had received, Qui-Gon picked it up and read.

_Dear Master,_

_I can honestly say I've never seen anything like this before. Of all the missions we've been on, the emotions flowing in and around this place are too much at times. We've contacted the opposing force but have yet to set a time or place to meet._

_I know this isn't the usual manner in communication but the consoles they have here are limited. I haven't witnessed my own handwriting in quite some time with all the technology we use at the Temple. Typed words are more familiar to me than this, faster too I might add. And yet there's a connection with this that I have not sensed with a comm. link, a data pad, or a comm. unit._

_The locals here are friendly enough but are wary of their military. Many don't understand the rationale of why they fight and I have to agree with their assessment. This war seems to have stemmed from a few generations back, but no one can tell me the grounds on which it's based. The lines on either side have continued to follow in their forefather's footsteps with no idea of why they fight._

_The soldiers here are welcoming of my presence and have been as hospitable as possible with the situation at hand. They'd like everyone to believe they're a rough bunch, but mostly they just miss their families and long for home._

_The militia is meeting; I have to go. More soon._

_Obi-Wan_

It had been eight months since his padawan's disappearance. Refusing to believe that Obi-Wan was anything less than alive was not an option to a heart that he now wished had stayed closed and frozen in the ice that Xanatos had left it in. At least that way he would have been numb. Picking up another, he let his eyes roam over the elegant script of his padawan's writing.

_Master Qui-Gon,_

_You were right in your assessment of the situation. It's complete chaos here. The military is trying their hardest to keep some semblance of order but the constant fighting resulting in casualties and varying degrees of wounded men aren't helping the matter any. The General is showing signs of exhaustion and extreme stress but refuses to hand over his duties to his second. Each time he sees another enter the base on a stretcher the guilt that washes over him is almost more than I can bear. The troops are being recalled in intervals. They're to regroup while a fresh wave is sent in their stead. There's one squad that hasn't checked in; they lost contact with them several hours ago. The longer they're out there the less chance they have of returning._

_This will be the last of the letters for a while, Master. I have volunteered as a member of a small group to find those who are lost, and in doing so hope to bring them all home. I find using this stylus and flimsiplast helps me feel more connected to Coruscant, the Temple, to…you. It's like sending a part of myself home without having a technical feel to it._ Concentrate, here and now._ It seems I am continually reminding myself of this lesson, Master. I won't say how I feel about this impending assignment because I know what advice you would give. They're ready. I'll contact you soon._

_Your Padawan, Obi-Wan_

Picking up a piece of flimsiplast, Qui-Gon took hold of the stylus on the table and began to write. This had become his routine before turning in for a restless sleep each evening. He didn't know how many letters he had written since Obi-Wan's disappearance; he had lost count. Smoothing his hand across the paper, he adjusted his grip and began to write.

_My dear padawan,_

_How many days has it been? You have yet to answer my last letter so here I sit to write again. Badgering is something I have perfected, as you well know. The bond is silent leaving this outdated method the only form I have to harass you with._

_I have watched you grow Obi-Wan from an awkward teen into a talented young man. And so many times I have let my pride keep silent the words that you have longed to hear, replaced by my hand upon your shoulder accompanied by a slight squeeze to let you know what I cannot voice. But do you know? Do you know that so long ago you helped an old man to find life? Do you know that the ice I swore would never be chipped away from my heart melted fraction by fraction each time you smiled? Do you know that I am proud of you, proud of your accomplishments? Do you know that you are more than my apprentice; you are the son of my heart?_

Qui-Gon paused. Tilting the pen to hold it at each end with the fingers of each hand, he studied what he had written. If truth were known, he hadn't meant to pour his heart out. Yet, when he began writing it was as if his mind had detached itself and his hand wrote of its own will. Pressing forward, he adjusted the stack of flimsiplast and continued.

_Garen and Reeft send their regards as does Bant and Siri. They are of the few who do not see me as a crazed lunatic for writing letters in which I do not even know are being received. But I have to believe that you are reading them, for if I don't, then my hope is gone. I have prayed that the Force would guide you and keep you in this mission and I know that it has heard me. You will come home soon do you hear me? For that is an order._

Adjusting the stylus, he finished with the same words he wrote at the end of each and every letter.

_You have grown into a good man Obi-Wan. And your bravery far outweighs mine. In the years to come you will find that your senses will become more and more attuned to the ways of the force; our dependence upon it and our discovery of new things that we only thought we had learned or knew is a continual cycle. Even now I am learning. I have watched you grow in your skills and in each new lesson learned, your wisdom and perception has grown as well. Oh padawan, what a Knight you will someday be, a force to be reckoned with. I only pray that the force allow me to witness each and every day of your walk._

_Come home, Padawan. Be safe and return to the Temple…to me._

_Your Master,_

_Qui-Gon Jinn_

Having finished, he set the stylus aside and picked up the flimsiplast. He viewed if for several moments before laying it down on the table to fold it. Placing it in a sleeve and sealing it shut, he addressed it to its recipient.

Rising from his seat on the floor, being careful not to disturb the letters lying about, he picked up his cloak and walked out the door. When he arrived at the courier center, the postmaster smiled and reached for the letter he knew was forthcoming. Qui-Gon handed it over and turned to leave when a voice behind him halted his steps.

"Master Jinn?" When the Jedi turned back to him, the dispatcher continued, "You do realize that your padawan may not even be receiving these."

Qui-Gon's gaze lowered to the floor and then just as quickly re-focused on the man in front of him. "I have to believe he is."

**X**

"Adjust your stance!" Qui-Gon called out over the ruckus of lightsabers in practice. To keep from thinking too much, Master Yoda had assigned him to train the Senior Padawans for the upcoming Tournament. It had done him good to have somewhere in which to place his focus, though his apprentice was never far from his mind. Each time he saw Padawan's Tachi and Muln bicker over something trivial he was reminded of how much they felt the void within their group. Garen had taken over Obi-Wan's place of bantering with Siri to keep her from being sullen, and she played along to make him feel better.

_A year and a half and still no word._ There had been plenty of leads to follow over the past months but none that panned out and those that had actually gotten them closer were short on time, meaning they always arrived after the encampment had been evacuated. Even with the bond empty like it was, silent and mocking, he still held onto hope by voicing it through the epistles he wrote each evening and dispatched soon after.

Qui-Gon sat down on the bench and gathered his things while the students rushed to the locker rooms to shower and change; however, a few elected to remain behind. Sitting down on the bleacher behind the Jedi master, Garen, Siri, Bant, and Reeft waited patiently while he fastened his bag. Standing, he turned and smiled at the young ones and gestured toward the door.

"Shall we?" He flinched mentally when he heard the saddened tone of his voice. He regarded the four Padawans before him, somewhat relieved that they either hadn't noticed or chose to not mention the grief he was certain they had heard.

The padawans stood and accompanied their training master to the dining hall for lunch, a ritual they had willingly taken up to keep the Jedi from being alone and in some selfish way on their part to be near someone who meant the world to their friend.

Whatever the reason, Qui-Gon didn't have it in him to deny their company. He too had a selfish motive…these were his padawan's closest friends.

**X**

The shuttle exited hyperspace and took its place within the traffic lanes above Coruscant waiting its turn to enter the atmosphere. A loan figure stood quietly by the viewport staring out over the city planet. He swallowed a lump in his throat, taking control of the emotion that wished to take hold. Pushing it aside, he clutched the bundles within his grasp. Shifting his hold on them, he leaned down to pick up a piece that had come loose and fallen from the stack. When his fingers brushed the edges, he grasped the tip pulling it up, the flimsiplast falling open to reveal the words strewn across it. His eyes inadvertently took in the characters and as he stood back up, his attention was riveted to the paper.

_Dear Padawan,_

_I've received your letters and thought I'd send a few of my own. I understand your thoughts on this less used method, but I would still like a comm. call if possible. I know you're all right, but seeing you would help too._

_I knew this day would come and yet I tried to hold it off as long as possible. Yes, you read that right. You would have been sent out a year ago, and I am the reason that it was delayed. This is just another step in your journey for Knighthood. And yes, I am anxious and all that implies. They grounded me here thinking I might follow you on your first solo mission; the gall of them to think that. I would not jeopardize this learning experience for you…at least I don't think I would._

He grinned at this, shaking his head and backing up slowly to the seat behind him. He had just read these yesterday. He had them memorized from the months he had spent in the infirmary with nothing else to do but read the letters that had been saved for a day when he would be able to take possession of them. A task he had taken to with great delight and longing.

_You've been a constant presence in both my mind and at my side for the past ten years. Walking these halls, watching your friends pass by without you with them, returning to empty quarters…well, it's more difficult than I imagined. I guess I've broken that one, Padawan, and you know to which I refer. Brat. You managed to take up residence against my wishes and now you're taking the next step to independence._

_Remember, stay in the here and now. The emotional overload the people are broadcasting can become crippling if you aren't on guard. Feel it, and then let it go. The populace may not understand the reasons for this war, but they're the ones still carrying it forth. Until they decide to take a stand and be who they are today there will be no peace. They must realize that just because their ancestors fought for a cause they believed in does not justify what they are doing now; unless, that cause still holds true._

_And as for the faction holding up the proceedings, that is to be expected. They want to show that they still hold some ground over the others and that they are still in control of the situation. It sounds as though the group you are with is ready to humble themselves and sign a truce. Encourage them to practice this humility in their interactions with the others. It will show their intentions to be done with this war._

_I am not actually allowed to offer advice nor am I allowed to state my feelings on this matter. However, what the Council doesn't know will not hurt them. Besides, Master Dooku did the same for me and Yoda for him. Speaking of the wise one, he told me to tell you that you'll do fine. Although, why he would think that I'd be in contact with you is beyond my understanding._

_You will do fine, my Padawan. You're braver than you think. And one day, when I am able to let go, you'll be a great Jedi Knight. But until then, make it home safe, Obi-Wan._

_Master Qui-Gon_

A small laugh piggybacked on a silent sob escaped as he folded the letter back and placed it in its sleeve. He briskly wiped a hand across his eyes and took a deep breath in an attempt to collect himself. Once he was sure he had control of his emotions, he stood and walked over to his satchel to place the four bundles inside. When he looked up, Commander Swyer was leaning against the doorframe silently watching.

**X**

He walked to the mailbox  
On that bright summers day  
Found a letter from his son  
In a war far away

He spoke of the weather  
And good friends that he'd made  
...It was the first of his letters from war

...

Late in December  
A day he'll not forget  
Oh his tears stained the paper  
With every word that he read

...

And he prayed he was living  
Kept on believing  
And wrote every night just to say

You are good  
And you're brave  
What a Jedi that you'll be someday  
Make it home  
Make it safe

He kept writing each day

- Mark Schultz (Letters from War)

**To be continued…**

* * *

**Note:** The song in its entirety will not be posted, only the parts that pertain to the chapters themselves. This song is based on a mother and her son; I took the liberty of replacing a few words (i.e. she to he, her to his, and father to Jedi) to fit the Galaxy Far, Far Away. I thought a father/son - master/padawan relationship would work well also.****

Hope you enjoyed it!


	3. Chapter 3: Following Orders

**Chapter 3**

Embarrassed by his lack of emotional control, something he'd been fighting to regain since his captivity, Obi-Wan continued with his task. He placed the letters on top of the items inside his duffel and tightened the cord. Setting the pack on the floor, he neglected to notice the fact that he hadn't clasped the flap shut.

Swyer watched the young Jedi as he tried to behave nonchalant, as if everything was as it had been before. Pushing away from his position inside the doorway, he took a step forward. "Are you ready?" His tone was gentle in light of the scene he has walked in on.

Obi-Wan's eyes met his but he didn't speak. Instead he gave a slight nod.

"I know that Master Windu didn't agree with your silence during your time of recovery, but he understands your reasons for not wanting your mentor to know."

Obi-Wan bit the inside of his left cheek as his eyes turned down to look at the floor. "If Qui-Gon had seen what happened, he never would have let me out of his sight again." Releasing a deep sigh, Obi-Wan turned his head to the side and looked up for a moment before looking at the man who had helped to rescue him. "And yet I'm not so certain that that's a bad idea."

"I'm not sure what the Jedi consider a job well done, but believe me when I say that you did do well. Your mentor is proud of you, Obi-Wan. You read it yourself."

"It's been two years. Two naming days have passed. A lot has changed."

"Not so much. I'm sure Master Jinn is the same as he's always been. Although, perhaps a bit more weary than two years previous but that's to be expected considering the circumstances." The commander studied the young man before him. "As for you, you're still the same kid who came over that hill amidst exploding devices and blaster fire cutting through the air as if he didn't even notice. Being a prisoner of war will change a person, and yet in you I can still see the young man from before. In everything you've been through, you've just forgotten how to let go and be yourself."

Obi-Wan rubbed a hand over tired features before replying, "Thank you, but I don't feel the same."

The commander shook his head and held up a hand. "It is I who should be thanking you. Because of your quick thinking, coupled with your selfless sacrifice and your training, I am able to go home to my family."

Obi-Wan frowned slightly, his voice taking on an edge of sternness as he replied, "That was something you should have done the first time around."

Swyer grinned. "I know. But being a father myself I couldn't in good conscious allow your master to think the worst let alone go through the loss of a child. I had to do what I know he would have done for me. It's an unwritten code between fathers."

Obi-Wan started to say something when Master Windu made his presence known. "He's right, Obi-Wan. You did what you were trained for and you did it well." Mace smiled, something Obi-Wan rarely – if ever – saw the master do. "I can't wait to see Qui-Gon's expression when he realizes your home."

Feeling better but still a slight nervous, Obi-Wan shouldered his pack and bade farewell to the Commander. Turning toward the hatch, he straightened his tunic and followed the Jedi to the ramp.

**X**

Qui-Gon walked slowly down the corridor keeping his stride in step with the elder master at his side. Yoda had happened upon him on the terrace outside the Council chambers. The patio was larger than most and its position near the top of the Council spire offered an unobstructed view of the city. Knowing what was currently occupying the Jedi's thoughts and wishing to distract him, Yoda asked him to accompany him to the Temple hanger bay to greet a dignitary that the Jedi would temporarily house until the Senatorial staff prepared the proper accommodations.

Knowing he would be drug into a political conversation, Qui-Gon had declined the invite declaring that he had other things he needed to tend to. The look on the elder's face quickly stilled his protests and he now found himself escorting him to the docking bay.

Having reached their destination, Qui-Gon and Yoda stood side-by-side (just inside the docking bay entrance) watching the shuttle set down upon the durasteel surface below. Allowing an exasperated breath to escape, Qui-Gon shifted his stance while failing to notice the amused look his grandmaster sent him.

"Nervous are you? Fidgeting like a youngling you are."

"Hmph, a youngling I am not, master, but wonder I do why my presence is needed here at all."

"Learn that soon enough you will." Yoda replied, ignoring Qui-Gon's attempt to mock him.

The hatch to the ship opened, and the flight crew immediately walked down to perform status checks on the ship. Soon after, a man in military garb descended the plank and paused at the bottom just as he would have stepped down. Turning to look back at the transport, he spoke to someone inside.

The scene unfolding before him effectively gained Qui-Gon's attention drawing it upwards toward the opening. Mace stepped out and once he was in step with Commander Swyer, the two walked toward the Jedi awaiting their arrival.

Eyebrows drawn in question, Qui-Gon said, "I thought you had a few more stops that needed to be made before you returned; you said there were a few more leads." His tone demanded an explanation.

Offering a bow of greeting, Mace rose back to a standing position and held up his hands in supplication. "Hold up, Jinn. We're here because we've received good news."

The two were quickly caught up in conversation, failing to notice the third figure that had descended the ramp. Stopping a short distance away so not to intrude in the lively debate the two were currently engaged in, the youngest of the group waited patiently.

Yoda watched the young one walk toward them and smiled. Without notice by the two nearest to him, he hobbled over to greet the newcomer. Obi-Wan watched the Master and when he was within distance, he knelt to his level.

"Good to have you home, young one. Impossible your master has been to live with since your disappearance."

A reluctant smile graced the padawan's lips making the master's heart glad that he could still lighten the young one's heart. Green eyes studied the young man closely. "Much healing has been done, but sense more to come I do."

The left side of Obi-Wan's lips lifted into a half smirk before nodding in agreement. He knew better than to try to fool the elder into thinking he was completely well.

The tap of a stick against his elbow regained his attention. "How feel you?"

"I am glad to be home. But there is a weight upon me that has yet to release its grasp."

Yoda placed a clawed hand over one of the Padawan's. "When face it you do, released it will be." When the young one nodded his acceptance of this, Yoda continued, "Help you we will."

Silence abruptly surrounded them and the two looked up. Obi-Wan stood, his satchel still secured on his shoulder and his eyes resting on Master Yoda. When he looked up, his gaze met that of his mentor.

Qui-Gon's mouth opened and closed several times but nothing came out. He took a step forward and in doing so, stumbled in his surprise and shock. Before he could fall, he found himself caught and steadied.

Obi-Wan dropped his bag not noticing that he hadn't completely closed the latch and hurried forward to steady his master. Qui-Gon's gaze keenly took in that of his padawan. Everything looked the same except for the change he noted in the young one's eyes and the more mature look that graced the boy's features, an expression of having seen too much too soon. A hand appeared at the nape of the padawan's neck pulling him forward. Not caring for Jedi protocol or the fact that others were silently watching, Qui-Gon embraced his student.

Surprise caused Obi-Wan to stiffen slightly before relaxing into the arms that held him. Qui-Gon had never really been openly affectionate. He knew the older man found it difficult to show or voice his feelings when it came to their familial relationship, yet he knew how his master felt and made sure that his mentor always knew of his knowledge. Leaning into the embrace, he said, "I'm following orders, Master. I came home."

Releasing him, Qui-Gon held him at arms length to better make sure the young man was all right. What his eyes found in his parental search was a new bead toward the end of his padawan's braid. Grasping it between two fingers, he gently twirled it. "You've passed your trial." He looked up to meet the young one face to face. "You've been promoted."

"Master Windu placed it on before we left for Coruscant."

"Another step closer, my padawan."

Qui-Gon released the braid, pride showing within a gaze that was just a bit too moist. Looking down for an instant to avoid the too knowing eyes that were watching him, he saw a bundle lying scattered on the floor, its beginning flowing from the open top of the satchel. Curious, he stooped down and picked one up; opening it he saw his own handwriting. Obi-Wan knelt next to him. "I received each and every one. They gave me a reason to keep fighting, and ordering me to come home at the end of each one didn't hurt matters any."

Qui-Gon laughed in spite of himself, and picking up the bundle he carefully handed it to his apprentice who in turn replaced it in his satchel securing the flap.

**- the end -**

Then two years later  
Autumn leaves all around  
A ship landed in the hanger  
And he fell to the ground  
And out stepped a captain  
Where his boy used to stand

Said Master I'm following orders  
From all of your letters  
And I've come home again  
He ran into hold him  
And dropped all his bags on the floor  
Holding all of his letters from war

Bring him home  
Bring him home

- Mark Schultz (Letters from War)

**Note:** Once again I took the liberty of replacing a few words (i.e. car to ship, pulled to landed, driveway to hanger, she to he, her to his, mom to Master, her to him) to fit the Galaxy Far, Far Away.

**Hope you enjoyed it!**

Please leave a review; I'd enjoy reading your thoughts about the story!

All reviews are welcomed, whether you sign-in (have an account) on FanfictionDOTnet or not.

However, if you don't sign-in (don't have an account) or leave an e-mail in your reply, I have no way of responding to your review. If you don't mind not receiving a response, I'll go ahead and leave one here:

_Thank you so much for reading and for your review; both are very much appreciated! :) I hope you have a great rest of the day! -Sincerely, Bekah_


End file.
